


ghosts never seemed so real

by sweetwatersong



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-18
Updated: 2017-12-18
Packaged: 2019-02-16 10:57:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13052592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetwatersong/pseuds/sweetwatersong
Summary: There is a moment, in the mud and the mountains and the desolation of his world, that Steve first grieves for the friend he's lost. It's in that moment that Peggy realizes she could lose him too.





	ghosts never seemed so real

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for a discussion about suicide by enemy fire.

“Peggy,” Steve gasps, the sound muffled by her jacket, and it’s as if his world is breaking. As if it already has. Peggy closes her eyes for a moment, understanding the grief that racks his body, but a moment is all she can spare. With a breath she slides her hands off of his shoulders to cup his face, to drawing it up with a firmness that lifts his chin and pulls his eyes to meet hers.

“You cannot follow him,” she tells him. The order is absolute, undeniable. “You cannot throw yourself after him.” Because this is Steve, the man she has come to know and admire, the soldier whose heart is a gaping, jagged wound; the boy from Brooklyn whose best friend and other half lies at the bottom of some God-forsaken ravine. Grief makes strange things of men, makes a mockery of them all, and Peggy will not let him dive into it with the reckless intent he pursues in every other aspect of his life.

Steve doesn’t understand her words, she can tell. There are tears caught in the lines on his face, there is a despair and loss so fundamental that he cannot think beyond the present moment, cannot trace the arc of his actions to see where they will lead. The same tears that stain the leather of her jacket and streak his face tear at her own heart; she knew and respected Barnes too, fought to see him safe and sound beside the Captain. But her agony is by far the lesser one and with that clarity she can see Steve’s path for him, knows where it could end.

“You cannot give yourself up,” Peggy tells this man she loves, this good man whose honor still exceeds even his new body’s ability to uphold it, this warrior who does not think with irony of the shield he carries on his arm. “I will not let you.”

He swallows, the movement convulsive and raw. His expression is so painfully honest that she sees the moment he comprehends what she is saying, when the light dawns in his reddened eyes and the same word draws across both their minds.

Steve would never think of it as suicide; this much is true. But Peggy has learned that it doesn’t matter what one thinks, simply what one does. And if he went into a battle, a firefight, a last-ditch effort to end this abominable war, he wouldn’t think twice about giving up his life ‘for the greater good.’

Her fingers slide to his shoulders and tighten at that thought. He is not the greater good, not the aim for which she strives every day on and off this battlefield, but he is important nonetheless. He _is_ good, in a way they must be reminded of, in a way that they cannot lose. That she cannot lose.

“Peg…” He whispers in a ragged voice, and to his credit there is very little in the way of denial in the word. He knows himself well enough to see what she does, when reminded of it.

“You cannot,” she repeats, giving his broad shoulders a shake. “Do you understand me?”

What goes unsaid is, _We need you. I need you._

_The war isn’t over yet._

“Yeah,” Steve breathes. “Yeah.” It is as much a sigh as anything else. “I just-”

The ghost of a dark-haired Brooklyn boy passes between them, shadowed against Steve’s gaudy American colors and reflected in the polished buckles on Peggy’s jacket.

Steve’s face crumples again, tearing in a sob so profound it shakes her body through the contact of her fingers, her chest. Peggy holds him close and closes her eyes.

 _Damn you_ , Barnes, she thinks distantly, feeling tears begin to prick the corners of her eyes. _Damn you, Schmidt._

She holds on, holds Steve while he grieves, and does not let go.


End file.
